


To Please the King

by Magnolia822



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Bondage, Established Relationship, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolia822/pseuds/Magnolia822
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin play one of their favourite games. I got nothing else; this is pr0n, folks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Please the King

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Asya_Ana for the beta.   
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, nor do I make a profit from it.

  
“You took long enough,” Arthur addressed Merlin from his position of repose on the bed. He was sleepy-sounding, lazy, a half-smile on his face as Merlin entered his chambers and removed his fine velvet overcoat. Even though Merlin had only seen the king a couple hours before, Arthur always managed to make Merlin’s heart quicken, especially as he was now: bare-chested, the material of his breeches tented.  
  
“Yes, well Sir Galahad does talk an ear off,” Merlin complained, stooping to unlace his boots. “You got off easy, vanishing without a word.”  
  
The feast had gone on longer than expected, a yearly invitation to dignitaries and knights from around Albion designed to forge new alliances and maintain old ones. As one of Arthur’s chief advisors, Merlin had been there to make conversation and show those few still skeptical of magic that a warlock could behave quite civilly when he meant to. As the evening drew on and talk of politics had turned to talk of women and sport, Arthur had somehow managed to slip away unnoticed. Merlin hadn’t been so lucky.  
  
“I am the king,” Arthur said.  
  
“Yes. You are.”  
  
“And I’m impatient, Merlin.”  
  
Merlin smirked, watching as Arthur began pulling at his laces. “I can see that.”  
  
Although his duties to Camelot and his king had long shifted from his early days as Arthur’s manservant, Merlin still liked to perform some tasks. He went to Arthur and helped him disrobe completely, then lit candles around the bed, illuminating them both in a hazy glow. Still golden, his king, now a man and a wise ruler, not at all the imperious young boy he’d been when they’d first met all those years ago. His body was harder, leaner, and marked with scars that proved his worth on the battlefield, each a memory Merlin would rather forget.  
  
Still clothed except for his bare feet, Merlin climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside Arthur, brushing away the blond fringe that had fallen onto his forehead before leaning down to kiss him.  
  
“What did you have in mind?” Merlin asked as their lips parted, though from the dark look in Arthur’s eyes, he already suspected the answer.  
  
“Your hands.” Arthur’s voice had grown soft. He reached down and gathered one of Merlin’s hands, pressing it to his chest over his heart.  
  
“Are you sure you can handle it?” Merlin asked, smiling down at him; he was trying to maintain a calm facade, but his magic was already uncoiling in anticipation.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You won’t beg me to stop? You won’t struggle?”  
  
“No. I won’t.” Arthur said, kissing Merlin’s palm and sending a shiver of energy though him. “Please.”  
  
Soon Merlin had Arthur spread on the bed, tied by wrists and ankles to the posts with magical binds he’d designed to give just enough so as not to injure, but also to provide substantial restraint. Arthur waited patiently, lips parted, as Merlin summoned a phial of oil that smelled faintly of almonds when he poured it into his cupped palm.  
  
Like the rest of him, Arthur’s cock was beautiful; it laid proudly on his belly, lush and thick with a dark, blunt head, his essence already welling at the tip. For a moment Merlin considered foregoing their play and taking it into his mouth, but then Arthur gave an impatient grunt.  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur said. “Touch me.”  
  
Merlin started as he always did with Arthur’s nipples, rubbing them to peaks between his thumb and forefinger, making Arthur’s broad chest glisten with oil. Arthur squirmed on the bed, his cock lifting as if seeking a warm place to sheath itself before slapping back down onto his flat stomach. Instead of addressing the obvious need, Merlin continued his massage, trailing his fingers over Arthur’s ribs.  
  
There was a scar just at the soft part of Arthur’s belly that still looked ugly—a raised, jagged line courtesy of an enemy sword. Merlin shuddered, remembering how close he’d come to losing Arthur that day. But it had also been the day that Merlin had finally shown himself to Arthur; he’d had no choice but to use his magic to staunch the blood flow and knit together the skin and muscle that kept Arthur alive. He fingered the scar lightly, bent down to kiss it, an indulgence he rarely allowed himself when they were playing this particular game.  
  
“Merlin, please,” Arthur said, hips shifting from side to side, as much as they could given his incapacitation.  
  
“Patience. Or do you want me to quiet you with a gag?”  
  
“No.” Arthur shook his head and clamped his mouth shut. Merlin laughed internally, wondering how long the silence would last.  
  
The first time Merlin touched Arthur’s cock, it leapt, already so stiff and wet. Merlin ran his fingers along the shaft, teasing the soft skin but not offering the firm pressure Arthur craved.  
  
Arthur moaned, a low, rumbling sound that shot straight to Merlin’s own cock, still encased in his trousers and undoubtedly as hard as Arthur’s. But this wasn’t about him; it was about giving Arthur what he needed. Merlin ignored his own arousal and gripped the base of Arthur’s erection deliberately.  
  
Holding Arthur’s cock upright with one hand, he moved the other up and over the head, swiping the wetness there and circling his hand very slowly, before descending down the other side. From experience he knew not to move too quickly or Arthur would come. Every time he reached the sensitive tip and massaged there, Arthur lurched, hips snapping upward in a desperate attempt to fuck.  
  
“Please,” Arthur gasped. “Let me spend.”  
  
Merlin merely continued his efforts, rubbing the head of Arthur’s cock with the palm of his hand, slicking it with oil and Arthur’s clear essence. Each pass took concentration. He could imagine how it felt, the need building toward an excruciating pleasure-pain, the single-minded focus on elusive relief.  
  
Arthur writhed on the bed, hips kicking up as far as they could lift, then side to side, gyrating. He whined, tiny, high-pitched sounds that came from the back of his throat as Merlin stroked him, rubbed his finger into the leaking slit of his cock.  
  
It filled Merlin with hot desire, the knowledge that he could do this, that he was the only one who could see Arthur bowed to his need. During the day Arthur was the picture of kingly authority and control, but little did the rest of court know about his nighttime proclivities. Not that Arthur was always submissive; no, sometimes he liked to take, to plunder and own. This was not one of those nights. Tonight was Merlin’s.  
  
When Arthur got too demanding, Merlin released him, waited until he settled. As always, his magic wanted at Arthur, too. It was greedy, in love with him. Merlin tried to control it but sometimes it licked out from his very heart, kissed places on Arthur’s body he didn’t mean to touch: the sensitive space behind his bollocks, his arse, his lips. In those moments, Merlin had to clamp his hand at the base of Arthur’s cock to keep him from release.  
  
It was unbearably arousing.  
  
“You’re doing so well,” Merlin said, voice soft even as Arthur’s whimpers became louder. The king’s chest was slicked with sweat as well as oil, breath pumping his ribs as he tried to escape the maddening, slow circle of Merlin’s hand.  
  
“I need to spend. I can’t take . . . oh gods,” Arthur said as Merlin cupped his hand around his cockhead and squeezed gently, a fluttering, pulsing motion that brought tears to his eyes.  
  
“Not yet. Remember what I said before? Do you need me to quiet you?”  
  
When their eyes met, Merlin saw trust meld with the agony of raw need.  
  
“Yes,” Arthur confessed, voice broken.  
  
“Very well then.” Merlin left off to fetch the soft cloth and strap they used to bind Arthur’s mouth when he couldn’t keep quiet. It was part of their ritual.  
  
He returned to the bed and settled near Arthur’s head, making him open his mouth to place the cloth inside before tying the leather round, knotting it firmly at the base of his skull so it would not come loose. Arthur made a whimpering sound around the intrusion.  
  
“You can take it,” Merlin said firmly. He stroked Arthur’s chest, admiring his form, all trussed up and bridled like a horse.  
  
This time, he kept his gaze focused on Arthur and bent down to lap at the head of his cock, little tasting licks that made Arthur’s eyes roll back in his head. He bucked as though on fire, whimpering through the gag, and Merlin tutted reprovingly, slapped the thighs that were shaking with need and trying to cant for leverage. When Arthur stopped trying to thrust, Merlin rewarded him by taking the tip into his mouth again and tonguing the ridge with careful swipes. Everything smelled of Arthur, of his long arousal, and Merlin closed his eyes to breathe it in, gave the cock a lick on the slit before rearing back up again and kissing the corner of Arthur’s bound mouth. In this final stage, he liked to touch Arthur everywhere, rub his thumb over one of Arthur’s nipples while the other polished the head of Arthur’s oversensitive cock.  
  
Merlin chuckled. “All of that experience with your armour still comes in handy.”  
  
Arthur narrowed his eyes, and Merlin could hear almost the retort in his expression.  
  
“I’m better at this, perhaps,” he suggested, leaning down and taking a nipple into his mouth to suck and bite.  
  
The protests came muffled but unmistakable, Arthur pleading for mercy, to be allowed to spend.  
  
“Not yet.” Merlin’s own voice had gone husky, watching as Arthur’s toes curled, body jerking.  
  
Another protest, another plea. But all of that was part of the game. Merlin smacked the tops of Arthur’s thighs again, closer to his cock, making it leap and leaving red prints behind.  
  
“You’ve very disobedient, Arthur,” Merlin said. This time Arthur didn’t even grimace; he just nodded, accepting. “Will you be better or shall I stop and leave you like this?”  
  
A vigorous nod told Merlin he was fine to proceed, so he did, rolling back the foreskin and smearing the wetness that continued to leak. Arthur’s cock was so hard he could feel it throb as he held the base.  
  
The first time they’d done this, Arthur hadn’t been bound, and in his frustration he’d thrown Merlin down and bedded him with abandon, crazed with lust. It had been the most reckless Arthur had ever been with him and Merlin had loved it. He wondered if the same would happen now if he released the ties. Probably. It was a tempting thought, but he knew Arthur needed this, needed his hands, and so he continued to pet and squeeze, always leaving off when Arthur’s whimpers became pleased groans.  
  
He imagined all the ways he could send Arthur off the final edge . . . if he should take Arthur deep into his throat, if he should push inside with his fingers or his cock. They’d done it all before, and each of the scenarios had its own benefits. Tonight, though, he’d a different thought in mind.  
  
Arthur was reaching the limits of his tolerance, hips jerking, unbidden tears leaking down his face, and Merlin shushed him, the hand that wasn’t gripping Arthur’s cock going to unlace his own breeches. Merlin’s cock sprung free and he groaned, holding it and giving it a couple of strokes.  
  
“Arthur. You’re beautiful like this,” Merlin whispered, kneeling between his parted thighs and aligning their cocks, slicking them both with the last bit of oil. Beneath him, Arthur made a keening sound, lifted his hips weakly, all of the fight gone out of him.  
  
Merlin gripped them together, hissing at the feel of the hot skin of Arthur’s prick against his own. He began a quick stroke, using both hands to twist and curl around their cocks, giving Arthur the friction he’d earned. It didn’t take long before Merlin felt his own release building and he bit back a moan, using his magic to vanish the gag from Arthur’s mouth.  
  
Freed, Arthur bellowed, his head lifting off the bed to watch Merlin thrust against him, the reddened head of his prick emerging and disappearing between Merlin’s clasped hands. The sight of their cocks together made Merlin lose control of his magic. It was everywhere, curling around them, touching them both in places that made their bodies vibrate with pleasure. He was Arthur and Arthur was him, the magic binding them together, obscuring the boundaries between their bodies.  
  
“I’m . . . Oh gods . . . I’m spending,” Arthur panted, face gorgeous as his cock began to pulse hot sticky stripes up his stomach, on Merlin, on the bedding around them. He shuddered, back arching off the bed at the force of it, and it was enough to bring Merlin to completion. He spent himself nearly as violently as Arthur, his essence hitting his face, his shift, probably his hair. With the magic swirling it seemed to go on forever; even as Merlin’s orgasm subsided, Arthur pulsed again and again in his hand, still coming.  
  
Finally, Arthur went limp, his sweaty hair plastered to his face, eyes glazed. Merlin released his fetters and Arthur let out a small moan of contentment as Merlin laid beside him, their hands seeking each other and clasping, both of them too exhausted to speak. Even with the relatively harmless binds, the stretch would make Arthur’s limbs sore tomorrow, and Merlin would tend to him as he always did.  
  
But tonight, finally, blissfully, there was sleep.


End file.
